


Feral

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Lost Girl, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle, Porn Battle XV: The Ides of Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's a way a wolf runs when it's been alone a long time. Gone feral without the pack. Without loyalty. Love. Derek's familiar with it. </p><p>He smells like fresh blood; like heart muscle. There's a limp in his stride."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle prompts: Dyson/Derek Hale, shifting, running, scenting, alike, and accepted.

Derek knows the wolf is alone. Broken. There's a way a wolf runs when it's been alone a long time. Gone feral without the pack. Without loyalty. Love. He's familiar with it. 

He smells like fresh blood; like heart muscle. There's a limp in his stride. It doesn't break his gait. 

Derek contemplates telling Scott. He probably will. New wolves in town usually mean trouble. He follows the scent. But when he catches a glimpse, he doesn't think this one will be. Trouble, that is. The wolf turns and looks at him. Derek sits, in wolf form; watches back. When the wolf turns and pads off into the underbrush, he lets him go and doesn't follow. He's not sure why. Just that something about him looks familiar. Not the shape, necessarily, but the lowered head, the wary eyes-- 

Yeah. He knows what that is. 

* * *

He comes back the next night, and finds him drinking out of one of the lakes back in the woods. Watches him again, somewhere between tracking a new player in their territory and making sure he's alright. Technically, this isn't right--by the laws of the werewolves or the natural wolves. He should have announced his presence. But something tells Derek he'll only stay if he's got a reason to, and he doesn't look like he has many reasons left to stay anywhere. 

The wolf looks up at Derek's hiding spot. No one's being fooled. Derek comes out, chuffs at him. The wolf doesn't bristle, doesn't flatten or snarl, but he doesn't really respond, either. That's when it sinks in: it's been a _long_ time. 

He's staying in an abandoned house, not far from Derek's; Derek stumbles across it by accident the next day when he catches the old scent. He gives the house itself a wide berth--he's not hunting. 

* * *

That night is the night before the full moon. 

Everything's coming alive, tonight. The wolf comes up and out of him and runs. Apex predator, sure--but even apex predators play. He chases fireflies and ambushes owls as they dive. 

Derek's chasing down food when he catches the scent--thick and tinged faintly with whisky. He perks up, breaks off. Howls. _Hello._ There's a rustle, but the other wolf doesn't sing. But he's nearby--Derek can smell it. 

There's the howl. Closer than Derek thought. Just at the top of the rise--

The new wolf steps out of the underbrush. Good. As much as he'd like to play--wants to run over and pounce--there are rules. This one seems a bit rusty, and Derek finds he has a patience for it that he doesn't remember having with anyone else. The other wolf pads down to him; Derek moves up to meet him. They circle, sniff; if he's more familiar with this stranger than pack laws dictate, it's because the stranger's shyness is anything but foreign to him. The newcomer's wiry, kind of shaggy, and his eyes seem... Dimmer than they should be. But bright when they catch the moonlight. 

Derek chuffs his approval. Digs at the ground with his paws. The deer's scent leads away ahead of them, it's gotten a good start, and the moon is _this close_ to full. The whole forest is lit up bright as day. 

The new wolf seems surprised, cautious--until Derek tears up the trail ahead of him with a bark, expecting him to follow. 

They share the kill. 

* * *

Full moon. This should be a pack thing, but Scott--like usual--won't be out until much later. That's fine. He's absolutely loyal. But there's a hurt wolf needs taken care of. He's starting to see where Scott's coming from. Sometimes, not having to play the power position--it's freeing. He melts into the wolf--into the forest itself--and lets loose another howl. _Come play_. 

This time, there's no warning. A rustle behind him, and Derek doesn't even have time to turn around before the wolf pounces, sending him sprawling. Then, the wolf's off and running with a wild cry. Derek snarls and takes off. 

It's a pure sprint, running until his lungs feel like they're about to burst--but that's only the beginning, for a wolf. Wild through the forest, sometimes chasing each other, sometimes prey. They find a rhythm. Blood, moonlight, and fur. The wolf ahead of him dapples--he's fast--white gleaming on white, glinting on grey. Derek stretches his paws out in front of him, cuts up a hill to get to a good vantage point--these are his woods, after all--and launches himself off the top of the rise as the other wolf runs beneath him. 

Tackle. Wrestle. Growls and snarls and grinning teeth and rolling around in the late-summer dirt. 

He's not sure when they shift back to more human forms, or who shifts first. Just that suddenly he realizes there's bare skin and laughing, and there's still teeth and growling, and limbs twisting under each other, and the moonlight boiling under their skin as it rises. Fireflies, everywhere. The newcomer's smiling, laughing from his chest. And it never really _changes_ from wrestling to something else, but at some point, they're both hard, and the new wolf's getting the upper hand, pinning him down. He's as wiry as his wolf, and just as wild and fast. Derek is bigger, darker. They roll, tangle; it goes from pushing down to pushing against, to pulling closer. Hot, throbbing flesh sliding against flesh. Clawed hands in hair and claws scoring down hips. Hot breath and hot skin and smell of summer rising up around them. 

Derek sinks his teeth into the newcomer's neck, and the newcomer snarls, thrusts harder between Derek's legs. Derek pulls his claws back into his hands and reaches down, wraps his hand around the other wolf's cock and strokes until he lets out a roar and thrusts forward sharply, hot liquid on Derek's thighs. A rough hand closes on Derek's cock, and his eyes fall shut and clench til all he sees is moonlight, and he growls between his teeth. Drags his claws down bare, tattooed skin and fucks into that grip. His hips jerk, stutter, and he comes on the new wolf's stomach. 

For a moment, there's just the sound of ragged breathing and summer buzzing around them. The stranger's skin is hot and thrumming against Derek's. 

After a moment, he can open his eyes. The new wolf is looking at him with a wry, quiet smile and a cocked eyebrow. He has dirty blonde hair that curls and cowlicks and descends into a rough beard. 

"I'm Derek." He says finally. 

"Dyson." His voice is quiet. 

"You're new in town." 

"Just passing through." Casual, reassuring--sad. He knows the rules. _Some of us have to wander longer than others._ Half his life, Derek's been alone.

"You've got a place to stay tonight." Derek manages to string the thought together--it's still a new one, for him. But moving through doesn't have to mean unwelcome. He has Scott to thank for that lesson. 

Dyson's brow furrows with confusion. "I've got a place to crash, yeah." 

"Not what I meant." Derek disentangles himself and pushes to his feet. Offers a hand to help him up. "Come on." 

He has a feeling Scott won't mind.


End file.
